The teacher asked a question. I knew the answer. I was sure of it. Of course nobody wanted to hear it from me, so I just kept my mouth shut. Like always. This was just how my day went. Something went wrong? No one wants to hear it.
The Cat watches the city as veins of smoke rise from chimneys. The moon has drowned the city in that dark ocean known as Night. The street lamps but small stepping stones which lead travellers down forgotten streets.
Hi! I'm not exactly sure who I am writing to, but it seems right to say hi. My name is Astrid, and I'll get right to the point.
Dear love,
The night you slept in my room the first time you were wearing one of your white cotton shirts.
There, on the shelf in my attic, hugged by the pictures and drawings my sister had created, these two shoes sit surrounded yet alone.
The portal opens in those fleeting moments that feel like they are about to crescendo, about to climb the final step to see over the mountain top.
I walled myself in with paper three days ago. I used my old fashioned-blow torch to melt the door of my office shut, and pressed my desk and my chair up against it.
Conversations glided through Willow the same way in which paper airplanes are flown through the sky. The classroom was only partially filled due to philosophy's limited popularity, however idle chatter has yet to be deterred by this.
I started getting folded-up sheets of blank loose-leaf paper from a girl in my algebra class six years ago. I still remember the first one I got in Junior year.
She carried around a lip gloss with her, reminiscent of jam and the fruits I used to eat in my youth. It appears darker in the bottle than on her lips, yet she says it is perfect the way it is.
Everything was just too much that day. The hollow slam of her footsteps against the pavement floor caused all the creatures beneath her feet to scatter.
I hissed as the pressure around my ribs tightened.